


maybe it's time to find a way to love anyways

by lazyfish



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: (the barest amount of plot but it's there), Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Multi, Polyamory, Porn With Plot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-28
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-12 14:26:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29760999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lazyfish/pseuds/lazyfish
Summary: Jemma Simmons wants an heir - she doesnotwant a lover... at least until Leo Fitz and Lance Hunter show up.
Relationships: Leo Fitz/Lance Hunter/Jemma Simmons
Comments: 13
Kudos: 10





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AgentOfShip](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AgentOfShip/gifts).



> Thank you to Libby (@LibbyWeasley) for beta-ing! Happy EvS anniversary, Sabrina!

Queen Jemma Simmons had a problem: she needed an heir.

It wasn’t exactly _needing_ an heir that was the problem for her; of course as queen she wanted her legacy to continue. She didn’t want her queendom to fall into the hands of someone who didn’t have her people’s best interest at heart. The problem came with the fact that currently, Jemma had no intention of laying with a man and producing an heir the so-called “normal” way. She had spent the last two years arguing with the nobility about allowing an heir that was hers by heart but not by blood to ascend to the throne, but her attempts were in vain. For some reason genetics were too important for them to put aside, which was _maddening_. 

Jemma was a firm believer in nurture over nature, and she was an even firmer believer in that every child ought to have a home. Why the nobility thought taking a child in need into the castle would be some horrible crime against nature, she would never understand.

Either way, it left her in the unfortunate position of needing to find a way to produce an heir. 

Since she was young Jemma had always had the fanciful notion of marrying for love, and she had stuck by it even when she assumed the throne. Her queendom thrived under her rule, and she had allies aplenty without needing to secure more via marriage. She would’ve welcomed additional allies in that manner if any of the nobles sent to court her were of interest, but frankly, most of them bored her. They thought they were better than everyone else because they were titled, and Jemma wanted to throttle them. They had been born into a higher position - that didn’t make them special. What made them special was how well they took care of their people.

Which was to say, there was no king in sight for Jemma. It was probably for the better, given the horror stories she had heard and the things she had read about sex between a man and a woman. Most of the maids would clam up when Jemma got within earshot, but she heard enough to know she wasn’t going to be falling into bed with just anyone, especially not if they were to be her child’s father.

If there was one thing Jemma was good at, though, it was solving problems. She had cast a wide net, sending letters throughout her network asking for a doctor who could possibly do what she needed of him. Her search had returned only one result: Doctor Leo Fitz. 

Doctor Fitz had agreed to come to her court when she’d bidden him to, and now Jemma was awaiting his arrival into the throne room. The page that had announced he reached the castle had been a bit overeager, and the tension in the room had been building steadily since that first pronouncement. Jemma knew some of the nobles disapproved of her unorthodox manner of obtaining an heir, but they disapproved of all manners of things, and this was what she wanted.

The door to the throne room swung open, and Jemma’s jaw nearly hit the floor.

Her correspondence with Doctor Fitz had led her to believe he was older than she by at least two decades; he wrote about his work with a precision and passion she did not know could be possessed by a younger man. Yet here he was, standing in front of her, a picture of youth. His bright blue eyes shone in the sunlight slanting in through the open windows, and Jemma almost drowned in their depths before remembering herself.

“Doctor Fitz, I presume?” 

“Aye - er, yes, Your Majesty.” Fitz jerked himself into a small bow. He didn’t seem at all comfortable in court, which was oddly endearing after a line of nobles who were all over-dressed and over-rehearsed. “And if I may introduce my companion, Mr. Hunter?”

Another man materialized from behind the doctor, and Jemma startled slightly. He was taller than Fitz, so Jemma didn’t know how he had managed to hide himself so easily from her. His stance was open, but his feet were pointed towards Fitz, not her; he was here for the doctor, and not for her. Peculiar.

“Hunter is a magician. He has been researching spells that may help with your predicament.” Fitz cleared his throat. “If you desire more than one option.”

Jemma bit back a scoff. She didn’t believe in _magic_ , especially not magic that claimed to do the impossible. There was no way for her to conceive a child without a man’s sperm; she knew enough about biology to know that was true. Still, Doctor Fitz seemed rather attached to Mr. Hunter - or perhaps it was Hunter who was attached to Fitz? - and there was no harm in keeping him around.

“Having contingency plans is important,” Jemma said, nodding slightly. “Mr. Hunter, you are welcome here.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty.” Hunter bowed, much more smoothly than Fitz did. He laid a protective hand on Fitz’s shoulder, and Jemma forced her expression to remain neutral. Hunter was definitely attached to Fitz, but was the feeling mutual?

“We’ve written up our proposals for you, if you wish to read them before we perform the procedures,” Fitz said. He brushed his fingers over Hunter’s knuckles carefully and the other man released his grip. Mutual, it appeared.

Fitz approached the throne, glancing nervously at the guards posted on either side. Jemma nodded to him and he ascended the three steps up to her. He produced two rolls of parchment for her, one sealed in red wax and another in blue. Jemma assumed one was his proposal and the other Hunter’s, color-coded for her convenience.

“Thank you, Doctor Fitz.” Jemma did feel marginally better knowing there were explanations for what was going to be done to her. She had tried to do her own research, but the castle’s library was understandably lacking in information about fertility treatments. There was some information, but it was more intended to help make women who were laying with men _more_ fertile, not create a child without laying with a man at all. It was all rather inconvenient.

“Would you and Mr. Hunter care to dine with me tomorrow, after I’ve had time to review your proposals?” Jemma asked. She would be free tonight after her day in court, and then she could read over the parchments. Or at least, she could read over Fitz’s parchment; she had no doubt that whatever was written on Hunter’s was pseudo-science at best.

Fitz glanced over his shoulder and Hunter gave a single short nod, his eyes widening slightly. It seemed Hunter came from a land where a monarch’s invitations were not requests, but instead demands. Jemma _hated_ those kinds of monarchs - they made everyone question her good intentions when she truly wanted to know whether something was convenient for someone else.

“Yes, Your Majesty, that would be amenable.” Fitz bowed again, then looked around. “Am I, er, supposed to kiss your hand or something?”

“No, Doctor Fitz, that’s fine,” Jemma said, amused. She hoped someone would inform her visitors of proper comportment within her court; she didn’t need them to be overly formal. If the other nobles weren’t here Jemma might’ve considered asking them to use her given name. They were, after all, going to be seeing extremely private parts of her eventually. “Please make yourself at home here. I look forward to our dinner.”

Fitz gave another endearing awkward bow before walking back down to Hunter and being led from the room by the guards escorting him. His head had immediately bent towards Hunter’s and Jemma could see them beginning to talk before they’d even exited the throne room.

She found herself perplexed, which wasn’t a familiar feeling. Along with being someone with more power than most, Jemma also had more brains than most. It wasn’t often she found something she couldn’t understand once she put her mind to it, yet Jemma could already tell she was not going to be able to understand what about Fitz enticed her. She had expected the feelings of curiosity and attraction to wane as soon as she realized Fitz was spoken for, but if anything his relationship with Hunter made her more eager to learn more about the doctor.

And yes, she would admit she found his companion handsome, too. Which was another source of perplexion. So few people caught Jemma’s eye, and yet two who did were already involved with each other?

Maybe she was just lowering her standards, Jemma thought. With a doctor she could at least guarantee speaking to him wouldn’t be like speaking to a stone wall. His companion was obviously sharp as well - or at least had a sense of self-preservation, if his reaction to Fitz’s candor had been any indication.

Her standards weren’t lower, then. She had just been looking at the wrong group of people. Jemma should have known better than to expect nobility to have any brains.

“Your Majesty?” Lord Talbot asked. “If we could perhaps get back to the issue at hand?”

“Yes, of course,” Jemma said, holding back her sigh. She handed the two scrolls of parchment to a page, who scurried off towards her personal chambers. He would leave them there for her to read at her earliest convenience, and then she wouldn’t be distracted by them for the rest of the day. Goodness knew she deserved a distraction after dealing with some of the people in her court, but Jemma could never shirk her duty in such a way.

“What were you thinking, my lord?” she asked politely.

Talbot launched into a well-rehearsed speech about his latest issue with the way the queendom was being run, and Jemma forced herself to appear attentive, even as her mind was elsewhere, pondering a blue-eyed doctor and his shadow.


	2. Chapter 2

“Thank you for agreeing to dine with me,” Jemma said as Doctor Fitz and Mr. Hunter took their places at her table. It was only the three of them since Jemma had chosen to dine in her personal chambers, and both men looked rather unnerved by the lack of other people in the room.

“The pleasure is all ours,” Hunter said, inclining his head towards her. Perhaps Jemma’s earlier assessment of him was wrong, and he didn't come from a place with a stricter monarch - perhaps he was just raised among nobility, and knew pretty words were expected by those who thought themselves important.

Jemma nodded and began serving herself from the platter of roast chicken and vegetables in the center of the table. When she was done Hunter served Fitz, and then himself, seeming grateful for the distraction. Jemma knew she was always grateful to have a meal in front of her when first talking to a stranger; it gave her something to do with her hands, and if a question arose she didn’t know how to answer she could simply take a bite of food and have more time to ponder.

“Have you had time to review our proposals?” Fitz asked as he began cutting his chicken into bite-sized pieces.

“I have,” Jemma said. “They were quite insightful. Did you develop your procedures yourself?”

“Hunter helped, actually. Much of my work is a practical application of his magical practices. Since not everyone can do magic, but everyone can do what I do, if they have the right tools,” Fitz said. “It still took quite a bit of trial and error but fortunately - or unfortunately, I suppose - many women are seeking the same services you are.”

“They are?”

“Most places don’t have as meticulous of an adoption program as your queendom does, Your Majesty,” Hunter said. “So the choices for obtaining children are to create them yourself, take one off the street, or inherit one from a deceased relative.”

“None of which are particularly appealing options to everyone, for different reasons,” Fitz added. Jemma nodded her understanding. Part of why she had been so insistent her queendom have a centralized adoption program was so children wouldn’t be forced onto the streets if their parents didn’t want them, and there would be a place for all prospective parents to go to find a child and be vetted to make sure they were in a proper situation to care for said child

“And have you had success in your work?” Jemma asked.

“Between the two of us, we’ve reached a one-hundred percent success rate,” Fitz said proudly. “With one procedure or the other the success rate is closer to…”

“Eighty percent,” Hunter filled in when Fitz couldn’t remember the figure. “Which isn’t anything to sniff at, but with our sample size it’s not as rigorous as we’d like.”

“You’re scientists as well as a doctor and a magician, then?” Jemma asked.

“Fitz is the scientist. I’m just his lovely assistant.” Hunter cracked a smile that made Jemma’s heart flutter. She understood now what people meant when they said a man had a kissable mouth; even with a smile bordering on a smirk and a smear of sauce on his cheek, Hunter had a face she couldn’t look away from and a mouth she longed to taste.

This was not how things were supposed to go.

“Are you interested in the sciences, Your Majesty?” Fitz asked politely.

“As interested as I can be with all the other matters that require my attention,” Jemma demurred. She had a small lab in the castle’s basement that was just for her own private projects, but she didn’t get to use it nearly as often as she liked. Though she was looking forward to eventually being a mother and having the question of the line of the succession out of her head, Jemma wasn’t as happy to think of sacrificing what little free time she did have for an infant. In some ways having a partner, a _king_ , would make that so much easier, but… Jemma wasn’t going to marry just to conceive a child, so why would she marry just to rear a child?

“What do you study?” Hunter asked. He and Fitz were taking turns trading questions almost like they shared their brain, but rather finding it unnerving, Jemma found it… charming. Why did she keep coming back to that word?

“Biology is my particular passion,” Jemma said. “I’d like to look more into biochemistry but many of the reagents are difficult to obtain, and the precise timings the experiments require are difficult with a schedule as busy as mine.”

Fitz nodded, and continued asking questions about her projects, with Hunter occasionally chiming in to finish Fitz’s thoughts when he couldn’t find the words he needed. Hunter also offered opinions of his own, but less frequently - what he said about being Fitz’s assistant instead of a scientist himself seemed to hold true.

What struck Jemma throughout their conversation was not just the thoughtfulness they put into each of their remarks; it was that they both seemed to care little, if at all, about the fact she was a queen. They wanted to know Jemma the person and not Jemma the ruler, a pleasure she wasn’t sure she had ever been afforded before.

“How did you get into magic, Hunter?” Jemma asked politely. Since she had spent the past half-hour exchanging inquiries with Fitz about work, it seemed only fitting she asked about what Hunter did as well, even if it was total poppycock.

“I was a soldier for a long time. It didn’t sit well with me.” Hunter straightened when he said the words as if obeying the words of an imaginary drill sergeant. “I discovered I had an aptitude for magic after I got injured. I was doing research in an old library to see if the doctors had missed anything, and it turns out they had.” He shrugged his shoulders. “I found Fitz about a year after that and the rest, as they say, is history.”

“I see.” Jemma blinked, then turned to Fitz. “And you? Do you practice magic?”

“I can’t,” Fitz answered blithely. “Don’t have the skill for it. And I don’t believe enough.”

“You don’t believe in it?” Jemma asked, brows knitting together.

“I believe in it,” Fitz corrected her. “I’d be stupid not to after seeing what Hunter can do. But I don’t believe enough that I could practice it myself.”

“Fitz thinks that one’s ability to do magic is proportional with the amount they believe themself able to do magic,” Hunter explained. “Which is inconvenient, because it means nonbelievers can never become believers by performing magic themselves. I’m sure you’ve learned, Your Majesty, that people are bad at admitting they’re wrong.”

Jemma nodded, sighing. The hardest part about managing her court was all the egos at play, all of the people she needed to treat gently. Inevitably lords made mistakes and said things they didn’t mean to or were factually incorrect; getting an apology out of them almost never worked even when they knew they had been mistaken.

“That’s what stands in the way of me and my work,” Hunter said. “Nonbelievers will look for every excuse as to why something happened other than the magic that made it so. Even the women who I helped assumed that they must’ve gotten pregnant the old fashioned way, or through Fitz’s medical procedure.”

Jemma tried her hardest not to blush. Hunter’s magic seemed to extend into mind reading as well as fertility treatments. 

“Which isn’t to say you have to perform my ritual if you don’t think it will work,” Hunter said. His words obviously weren’t meant to be a challenge, but Jemma took them as one anyways. He and Fitz had been nothing but lovely and open to her, and she refused to be the kind of small-minded person Hunter obviously disdained.

“No, I intend to perform both procedures,” Jemma answered steadily. Even if she had only meant to call Fitz, Hunter was here now too, and there was no use in wasting his time. Jemma was especially curious if their boasted one hundred percent efficacy rate would continue to hold; it would be easier if she never needed to bid them back to her… though Jemma also wouldn’t mind an excuse to see them again, since their conversation tonight was one of the most delightful ones she’d had in a long while.

“We’re at your service,” Hunter said. Was that a touch of innuendo in his voice? No, Jemma must’ve been imagining that. If he and Fitz were together, why would they want to be with her?

“Did you take note of the scheduling?” Fitz asked, business-like demeanor slipping over him. “It’s important we time it precisely to give you the best chances possible of conception.

Jemma nodded and went to retrieve her calendar from her desk. She kept careful track of her cycle so as not to be caught unawares, especially when at a court event, and had no trouble relaying the appropriate dates to Fitz for his notes. He copied them down onto a paper Hunter produced for him seemingly out of nowhere, murmuring to himself as he did so.

“The full moon is in three days; that’s when it would be best to perform Hunter’s part of the ritual. Mine will have to wait until another week after that to have the best chance at success,” Fitz said.

“Success is all I ask for,” Jemma said. In the grand scheme of things, three days wasn’t long to wait, even if it did feel like an eternity. “Would you be interested in another dinner with me tomorrow?”

Fitz and Hunter smiled in unison. “We’d be delighted.”


	3. Chapter 3

Her chambers felt unusually cold. Or were they unusually warm?

Jemma was sure it was just the nerves making her ill at ease, but she couldn’t help but be nervous. Even if she didn’t believe the ritual Hunter was going to carry out would leave her pregnant, it still involved her being terrifyingly vulnerable with a man. Jemma kept trying to convince herself the kinship she felt with Hunter and Fitz was just a fluke, but she couldn’t do that. They had eaten dinner with her all three nights they’d been at the castle, and every night Jemma found herself more and more engrossed in the conversation. They laughed and asked questions and made her feel like more of a person than she could ever remember feeling before.

Even though she had only known Hunter for three days, he didn’t _feel_ like a stranger, and that made what she was about to do more terrifying, not less.

A soft knock on the chamber door announced the presence of the man of the hour. When Jemma opened her door she found Hunter looking more serious than she had ever seen him.

“Your Majesty.” Hunter bowed stiffly, removing the leather bag slung over his shoulder and settling it on the floor.

“Hunter,” she answered with a nod, trying not to be thrown by how overly-formal he was being. “Please, do whatever you need to prepare for your ritual.”

Hunter opened his bag and began removing several items. The first few Jemma recognized - a bundle of candles and a flint to light them with, some sticks of incense, a few wooden boxes she assumed were filled with herbs - but they rapidly degraded into things Jemma couldn’t guess at the purpose of. Nevertheless she stayed politely silent and kept herself out of Hunter’s way as he moved through her chambers, setting the items down on whatever flat surface he could find.

“I assume you’ll be using the bed?” Hunter asked, pausing to look at her.

Jemma nodded.

“Excellent.” He resumed his moving around the room, and Jemma took the opportunity to admire his frame. Hunter was lithely built, athletic without being too bulky, and it showed in the way he strode around her room. She could almost imagine the planes of muscle beneath his tunic, and a part of her longed to run her hands down his chest just to see if it was as solid and smooth as she wished.

“If you could remove your clothing. The ritual requires some runes on your skin, and I think you’d rather not ruin your nightdress.”

Jemma’s cheeks grew warm, but she nodded and complied. She was glad she had thought to change into her nightdress; she wasn’t sure if she could have made it through Hunter unlacing her corset for her. Under normal circumstances it was such a simple task, but since the man had a way of making a glance across the dinner table feel intimate, she could only imagine what he would be able to do with his hands on her bare skin.

Jemma folded her nightgown neatly and placed it on the floor by the foot of her bed so she could put it back on as soon as the ritual was complete.

Hunter had lit both the candles and the incense sticks while she was undressing, and the aroma filling the room was unmistakably arousing - spicy and musky at the same time, but not overpowering. It was rather like what Jemma imagined Fitz would smell like. Not that she had paid any particular attention to how Fitz would smell, but if she _had_ , the scent drifting through the air would’ve been what she arrived at.

“Are you ready for the runes?” Hunter asked.

 _His hands on her bare skin._ She had been thinking about him unlacing her corset but not at all about him writing the runes on her.

Jemma opened her mouth, intending to ask if there was any way she could put the runes on herself, but instead what tumbled out was, “Yes, of course.”

Hunter nodded for her to sit on the bed and Jemma did as she was told. He kneeled on the bed behind her, his weight creating a dip in the mattress. “This might be a little cold,” Hunter murmured.

Goosebumps rippled across Jemma’s skin with Hunter’s fingertip at the epicenter. She felt her nipples harden and Jemma squeezed her eyes shut, thankful Hunter was behind her and not in front where he could see the evidence of her desire.

“Sorry.” Had Hunter’s voice dropped or was that Jemma’s own mind playing tricks on her?

“It’s fine.” The words came out more breathily than she’d intended and Jemma fought against the whimper crawling up her throat when Hunter drew another rune on her shoulder blade, fingers soft and sure. 

He continued torturing her, his careful touches and the cool paint on her hot skin only serving to drive Jemma mad. Try as she might, she couldn’t stop thinking about him touching her in other places and in a less professional manner. He could just reach his hand around and touch her aching nipples, or perhaps trail his hand lower and find her center, which was hot and rapidly-dampening.

“There are a few more left to do on the front,” Hunter said, cracking through Jemma’s fantasies.

The front? She gulped, taking a steadying breath in hopes it would keep her from doing something stupid like pulling him in for a kiss.

Hunter knelt in front of her and set his tiny pot of paint on the ground beside his knee. He dipped his fingers in, and Jemma swallowed hard. 

“This one goes on your throat.” Hunter’s voice maintained the same quiet, steady cadence it had taken up since he lit the candles. Jemma nodded to show she understood, then arched her neck back to give Hunter access to her throat. It was over quickly, three quick strokes, but it might as well have been a lifetime. Jemma’s heart refused to stop hammering long enough for her to hear where Hunter was placing the next rune, so she just nodded.

She gasped when Hunter’s finger circled her nipple.

“Sorry!” he said, pulling his hand back. “Is the paint too cold?”

“No, I - I was just surprised,” Jemma stuttered. “Continue.”

Hunter completed the rune he was working on and moved to the other nipple, tracing a careful circle and line around it. Jemma squeezed her thighs together. Maybe the only good thing about her nipples already being hard was that they couldn’t possibly harden further under Hunter’s touch and betray the thoughts running through her head.

Hunter drew three more runes down her stomach, the last one just below her navel and above the thatch of curls that trailed down to her most private place.

“Now,” Hunter murmured. “The ceremony is rather simple. It only requires you to bring yourself to orgasm while I say the activating words. I understand it might be difficult to… please yourself with a stranger in the room, so I can move out of your sight, if you prefer.”

 _Stay right where I can see you,_ Jemma wanted to say. Instead she nodded and tried not to be entirely mortified that she was going to be masturbating in front of Hunter. And for what purpose!? She knew there was no way she would fall pregnant, no matter what kind of runes or incense or chanting there was.

Hunter ducked off to the corner, and Jemma didn’t allow herself to watch his retreat. It would only frustrate her more.

And she was already _very_ frustrated. The room filled with the heady scent of Fitz, Hunter’s hands on her naked body, on her _breasts_ \- she didn’t need to touch herself to know she was wet, but Jemma slid a hand between her thighs anyways.

She was even wetter than she thought, practically dripping onto the bedspread beneath her. Jemma squirmed uncomfortably, unsure of what to do with the coil of arousal in her belly. Surely it was improper to masturbate thinking of a man who was in the very same room as her? That still left Fitz, though, and Jemma wasn’t any more sure of the propriety of thinking about him as she touched herself.

The tingles beneath her skin grew more insistent, almost painfully so, and within the minute Jemma was no longer pondering propriety. She needed to get off, and Hunter and Fitz would never have to know she was thinking of them.

She didn’t bother suppressing her gasp of pleasure when she pushed her fingers inside her channel. Jemma wanted Hunter to listen, even if he didn’t know it was his fingers she was imaging inside herself instead of her own. She cupped at her breast with her other hand, careful to avoid smudging the runes Hunter had painted on her - Fitz was meticulous with everything, and he would never ruin another person’s handiwork on purpose. Or maybe he would, if he was touching her; Jemma didn’t know.

Masturbation had always been a particular strong suit of Jemma’s; it needed to be, given her insistence on not sharing her bed with a man and her rather voracious sexual appetite. Jemma could’ve invited a woman into her bed if she wanted to, but the fallout of such a maneuver seemed too exhausting to be worth the night of pleasure.

In any case, Jemma knew how to touch herself expertly. When she was alone and doing it simply to relieve some of the pressure that had built during the day, Jemma took her time, letting it drag on as she teased herself higher and higher. Now, though, Jemma couldn’t imagine doing anything other than reaching completion as quickly as possible. Hunter’s eyes itched at the back of her neck - or maybe that was the rune he had drawn on her.

She urged herself towards her peak with the same single mindedness as she did everything else in her life; once there was a problem Jemma Simmons wanted to solve, it _got_ solved, even if that problem was simply being horny. Jemma’s thumb played across her clit and her fingers pinched at her nipples, both sensations sharp and clear and cutting through the buzzing sensation overtaking her brain.

The sharp copper tang of blood exploded through her mouth and Jemma released her lip with a sharp squeak of alarm. She had been biting it so she didn’t accidentally moan a name she shouldn’t, but she hadn’t realized how hard she was biting until it began to bleed.

Arousal began to sluice off of her and Jemma whined. She had been so _close_ , and not only would it be frustrating as hell not to finish, it would be embarrassing to explain to Hunter why, exactly, she hadn’t been able to cum. _Sorry, Hunter, I just wanted to make sure I didn’t freak you out by moaning your name while I masturbated. I’ll need you to come by tomorrow night and do this whole complicated ritual that won’t even work again - promise this time I’ll do better hiding how hot I find you and your doctor friend!_

Luckily for Jemma all it took was a recollecting her thoughts and a few careful touches for the tingling under her skin to begin anew. She didn’t waste her time teetering on the edge like she had before. Jemma was all brutal efficiency, wringing an orgasm out of herself that wasn’t entirely pleasant but would at least get the visitor out of her chambers so she could have another proper orgasm, complete with wanton moans, later.

Hunter’s chanting flooded her ears as she came down from her high, and Jemma wasn’t sure whether it had gotten louder or if she was just more aware of it now that her body wasn’t demanding all of her attention. He cut off abruptly, and all at once the candles in the room went out.

Well. Her chambers always _had_ been a bit drafty. It didn’t mean magic was real. And the burning of the runes on her skin - that was just because she was flushed with her orgasm and the paint wasn’t allowing the heat to evaporate.

There were perfectly scientific explanations for every phenomenon.

“Excellent,” Hunter said after a long minute of silence. He rounded the bed so he was back in Jemma’s line of sight. Sweat glistened on his face and forearms, and Jemma gulped back a groan. How did he look even more delectable now than he had ten minutes ago?

“The ritual is complete. You’ll have what you want.” Hunter began striding around the room, collecting the extinguished candles but leaving behind the half-burned incense. 

“Thank you,” Jemma said uncertainly. “Is there anything else I need to do?”

“Just rest,” Hunter told her as he scooped the candles into his bag. “And if at any point you begin feeling ill, let me know. The ritual is powerful magic, and while I haven’t ever had anyone have adverse reactions, it wouldn’t be out of the realm of possibility.”

Jemma nodded. She wasn’t going to tell Hunter that if she felt ill she would go to the castle’s physician, and that the likely cause was not powerful magic, as he claimed. If she became sick, it was because her room was drafty.

“Your Majesty…” Hunter said as he stopped beside the bedchamber door. “What did the incense smell like?”

Jemma furrowed her brow. Hadn’t he just been smelling it, too? “It was… nice.” Jemma licked her lips. She couldn’t say it smelled like Fitz, could she? “Masculine, perhaps would be an accurate description. Is that why you picked it - to stimulate a mating response?”

Hunter chuckled. “No one is _mating_ you, love. I was just curious is all.”

Hunter ducked out the door a moment later, leaving Jemma with her confusion and a memory of his ass that would occupy her for the next several hours.


End file.
